


The Beginning of Forever

by anotherheart



Series: Everything (And Then Some) [1]
Category: Atlantis (UK TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-11 00:56:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20537522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotherheart/pseuds/anotherheart
Summary: The gods give as they please and the gods take as they please; one can only hold tightly to those they love and pray their grip is strong enough.





	The Beginning of Forever

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think anyone cares about Atlantis anymore but I just finished it for the first time recently and will now forever be sad it didn't get at least one more season (to wrap everything up, but mostly bc we didn't see enough Icarus and his relationship with Pythagoras), though it deserved three more. As soon as I was done it I proceeded to read literally every single Pythacarus story on here and that apparently still wasn't enough because now I'm writing this. 
> 
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Also I've been listening to night time by the xx on repeat as I've been reading and as I wrote this, so put that on for extra depression

“What’s it like to wake up next to your love in the morning?”

Pythagoras slowly began to open his eyes, squinting at the light coming in from the window. He lifted his head and turned towards the doorway where Hercules stood, grinning down at him.

“A rare day when I’m up before you.” Pythagoras could hear the amusement more than he could see it, eyes still half closed, still exhausted from his late night. He had been so close to figuring out the theorem he was working on- it was as if it was just staring him in the face, but he was a blind man who could only tell what was in front of him by feel. If only he could just-

“You and those damned triangles,” Hercules muttered, as if reading his thoughts, before shaking his head and turning to walk out of the room. “Come on, get up then,” he called over his shoulder. “Jason will have our heads if we’re late to this job too.”

Pythagoras lifted himself up out of the chair and looked down at the work he had fallen asleep on. The top parchment was smeared in places, the ink having found its way into his hair. Nothing he wouldn’t remember on his own, he desperately hoped. With one last despairing glance down at his ruffled work, he began to get ready for another two days guarding wares and another two nights without his bed.

He grabbed a cloth and moved over to the wash basin, beginning to ease the ink out of his curls. It was really no matter, he tried to convince himself. They’d be making a good sum of money (should all go well) that they desperately needed, and at least Jason and Hercules would be with him. It was not as though he spent too much time alone these days anyway, with two other people living in the house and all the new trouble that they have been getting into since Jason stumbled his way into their lives, but he spent too much time thinking nonetheless. He would try and try to replace all his worries with geometry instead, but it only did so much good. The days were quickly encroaching upon a dreaded anniversary. He had been told not to keep track, but he could not help it if his mind worked in numbers. He could not help it if all he wanted was his friend’s safe return, and sooner rather than later. He could not help it if each passing day brought more and more possible scenarios of things that could’ve gone wrong. Illogical, maybe, as he could surely take care of himself, yet the worry took up more space in Pythagoras’s mind with each day he did not return.

It had been almost a year since-

“Pythagoras!” Hercules bellowed from the main room.

“Coming!” Pythagoras hollered back.

_-since Icarus left._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Okay, I know what you’re thinking,” Hercules began upon seeing the annoyance plastered on Jason’s face, “but it wasn’t my fault this time!”

“Oh yes, I’m sure Pythagoras had to be dragged out of the tavern.” Jason had left before the sun rose to meet the merchant and receive the keys and instructions (or rather, warnings on what would happen if his wares were stolen while on his journey to pick up a big supply). Hercules had known the man and Pythagoras had convinced him to entrust the trio with the job, so Jason was stuck with having to get up early to meet him. Pythagoras had felt a little guilty, but Hercules insisted that it was only fair and Jason didn’t seem to mind. All Jason asked was that they arrived not long after dawn.

It was nearing midday.

“I swear on my life! He’s becoming less responsible by the day! All he thinks about anymore is triangles, can’t even spare a passing thought on his dear friend, waiting all alone, probably bored out of his skull.”

Pythagoras rolled his eyes at the older man, but confessed nonetheless. “It is true. I fell asleep while working and Hercules had to wake me.”

Jason laughed, finally letting go of his only-half-serious exasperation, and turned back to Hercules. “Doesn’t that mean you woke up late too? Surely you would have gotten him up earlier if you had risen on time?” His grin only grew wider as he accused Hercules.

“Well, I- you see… it’s, well,” Hercules stammered, “that’s just unfair.” All three were laughing now, the usual ease of their friendship ever present. Pythagoras was so grateful that he had this.

As the day dragged on, the three talked- about the upcoming festivals, about Hercules’ new gambling debt, about how they would fend off possible bandits, about the adventures they had gone on recently. Though Pythagoras could tell they were each growing a little bored of sitting around doing practically nothing, he was glad for the distraction of the constant conversation, as were his companions, though obviously for different reasons.

Night began to fall, and it became time to choose who took what watch.

“Pythagoras should take first watch,” Hercules was quick to suggest. “He did sleep latest, after all.”

“Well, it’s definitely not going to be me,” Jason said, yawning almost as if to prove a point. “I got up earliest.”

Pythagoras looked between them. Trying to make any argument would surely be a losing battle. He sighed and conceded. “Fine. Hercules, you’re taking second watch.”

“Why me?” He cried.

“Because, as Jason said, he got up earliest. It’s only fair that he should be third.” _And_, he thought, _because that’s what you get for having me take first_.

Hercules sighed and muttered, “Fine,” echoing Pythagoras’s previous annoyed agreement.

“Well, that settles it then, boys,” said Jason with an amused and slightly smug smirk. “Goodnight.” He lied down in the same space he sat, stretching out on the hard ground.

“Goodnight,” Hercules bid as he did the same.

“Goodnight,” Pythagoras repeated.

His thoughts were surprisingly still for a moment, just listening to the slow breathing around him. Jason and Hercules were alive. They were safe. They were _here_.

That was more than he could say he knew of Icarus.

Icarus. Pythagoras had not said his name for many months. Hercules knew, of course, that Icarus had gone on yet another quest for his father, to gather research and supplies for Daedalus’s next brilliant invention, and he knew, of course, that Pythagoras was worried, as he always is when Icarus leaves. But Pythagoras was unsure of how well Hercules actually knew what Icarus meant to Pythagoras. His friend was more observant than people generally thought, Pythagoras would give him that, especially when it came to how he was feeling. They had lived together for too long, been friends for too long, for it to be any other way. Yet he had not spoken to him about it in a long while.

_“It has been six months now,” Pythagoras had said quietly, while sitting on the forest floor, daring to open his mouth only when Jason was asleep. They had been on another incredibly dangerous mission thanks to Jason, but he couldn’t say he was mad at him for it. No, Jason had been too kind, too good of a friend since he arrived._

_“What has?” Hercules had responded, though something in the tone of his voice told Pythagoras he already knew what he was talking about. Maybe it was his way of trying to get him to talk more._

_“Since Icarus left.” He didn’t look up from the fire, but he could feel Hercules staring at him. When the silence had gone on for a little longer than he liked, he followed it up with, “That’s the longest he’s ever been gone.”_

_“If you, skinny as you are, can get through these fool’s errands that we’ve been running lately, Icarus can. Icarus is strong. He’s crafty. I’m sure he’s fine.” Hercules did his best to sound reassuring, but Pythagoras thought he could sense a little doubt in his voice. They both knew that these trips- only research trips, nothing as incredibly dangerous as their recent exploits- generally only took a few weeks, maybe a month and a half at most. The previous record had been four months, a long time ago, and Hercules had constantly chided Pythagoras for worrying so much. This time, though, it was different. Pythagoras had barely said anything about it. It was just different between them now. Between him and Icarus. They were as good of friends as ever, but… well, he didn’t know. It was just different. He didn’t like not knowing._

_“I’m sure you’re right,” Pythagoras had responded with no emotion in his voice. He didn’t have the extra effort to expend to attempt to sound confident. “I should go to bed.” He moved himself down to his side and closed his eyes._

_“Goodnight,” Hercules had said._

And that had been it. That had been the last time he had spoken Icarus’s name. The last time he had spoken about him at all. Even Daedalus didn’t want to approach the subject with him. As much as he bickered with his son, he loved him all the same, and Pythagoras knew his old friend was too worried to speak of him. Not without hearing word from him. Which meant that he hadn’t.

And now, it was a week exactly until one year that he had spoken to him.

Pythagoras didn’t know how much longer his heart could take this.

The following hours dragged on ceaselessly, his mind running itself in circles, the darkness only contributing to the perilous state of thought he had worked himself into. Eventually, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hercules stirring. It was time for his watch, he decided.

Moving as quietly as he could, he made his way over to Hercules and shook his shoulder. “_Hercules,_” he hissed. No response. Pythagoras shook him a little harder and said his name a little louder. Nothing.

So he kicked him in the back.

“Ow!” Hercules cried, rubbing his back as he turned over. “What was that for?”

“Get up, you lazy fool,” Pythagoras said, grateful to end his mind’s suffering. “It’s your turn.”

“You could’ve been a little nicer about it,” Hercules said as he hoisted himself to his feet.

“I tried,” Pythagoras argued. “It didn’t seem to have much effect, so I chose a different approach.”

Hercules shot him a look, but stopped himself. “Are you alright?”

“Of course, why shouldn’t I be?” Pythagoras responded, not really wanting to go back down that train of thought so soon.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He thought that Hercules had meant it as a sort of joke, but it sounded too sincere.

“I’m fine,” he insisted, beginning to lie down on the ground.

A few minutes of silence passed. Pythagoras assumed that that was that, and began to try to drift off to sleep. A harder task than it seemed, but he eventually began to feel tired. That was just when Hercules spoke up again.

“You can talk to me, you know.”

“I can’t,” Pythagoras said quietly. He was almost ashamed at how suddenly sad his voice sounded.

Hercules must have heard it too, for his next words carried that tone of over-friendliness that Pythagoras had heard more than enough times when he knew Hercules wasn’t really sure how to act. “Come on, you know that isn’t true.” A second of silence sat between them before Hercules added a little more sincerely, “You can always talk to me.”

“My head knows that to be true, but my heart does not seem to agree on this matter.” His voice was barely a whisper now.

“Your heart?” Hercules asked, sounding genuinely surprised. “Since when have you ever worried yourself over your heart?”

No answer.

“Oh,” Hercules breathed quietly. “Of course. Your heart. I _have_ been a bit of a fool, haven’t I?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” came the lie from the ground.

“Icarus.”

The name hung heavy in the air. It weighed down on Pythagoras’s chest like a thousand bricks. He felt tears welling in his eyes.

The two sat wordlessly for a moment, letting the silence of the sleeping city fill their ears, each unable to say anything more to the other.

“He’s going to come back to you, Pythagoras,” Hercules finally said.

“Yes,” he whispered, because speaking the alternative was unthinkable. H_e is going to come back to me_.

Pythagoras closed his eyes and was glad to finally let sleep take him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Pythagoras woke, the first thing he noticed was his sore neck. Two nights in a row of strange sleeping arrangements didn’t seem to agree with him. He’d surely never get used to sleeping on the ground, no matter how many times in his life he’d have to (which was becoming increasingly more these days, it seemed).

The second thing that he noticed was that Hercules was gone. He groaned.

“I’d say I can’t believe he left us here, but that would be a lie,” Pythagoras said, lifting himself up onto an elbow.

Jason laughed. Always laughing. “He said he’d ‘be right back,’ he just really ‘needed to get something.’ I’m guessing that ‘something’ has certain intoxicating properties.”

“I imagine it does.” Pythagoras shook his head. “You know, he certainly doesn’t have the money for it, and I can’t imagine who would let him pay them back later considering his pitiful reputation.”

Pythagoras and Jason sat talking for about an hour before their last third showed back up. As he approached, it was clear he held something behind his back.

“What have you got there?” Jason asked, eyebrows raised. He looked over to Pythagoras, snickering slightly.

The glee and pride on Hercules’ face was unmistakable. He shifted a bit, and slowly brought around something in his left hand.

A pie.

Both the boys began laughing. Pythagoras felt himself brighten up a little. “Well, at least it’s better than a flagon of wine.” Hercules beamed back. ”How did you even get this?”

“I have my friends,” came the slightly mysterious response.

“Then how come it took you so long to get it?” Jason asked.

“Well, sometimes friends take a little convincing.” They shared another bout of laughter.

As they began to eat, Hercules turned to Pythagoras. “You seem to be feeling a little better then.”

“‘Feeling better?’” Jason asked, brow furrowed. “Why? What was wrong? If you were feeling unwell, of course you could’ve gone back home, we would’ve-”

Pythagoras smiled at his friend’s concern for him. “It was nothing really, I was just a little tired from the night before.”

The look Jason gave him told him that he wasn’t all that convincing, but he dropped the subject.

The day carried on much like the one before, with talking, laughing, joking. Hercules in particular seemed in great spirits, especially for a man spending two days guarding a door and two nights sleeping on the ground.

“What’s gotten into you?” Pythagoras had asked at one point during the day. “Did you see Medusa at the market or something?”

“Something like that,” was all the reply he was given.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next night passed without incident, something that surprised all three of them. It was unusual for anything they did to go this well. The merchant returned safely, paid them their much needed money, and sent them on their way.

“Huh,” Jason said on their walk back home, “I could get used to that.”

Upon stepping back into the house, they collapsed onto the bench in the main room. Jason and Hercules talked about going out to celebrate, meaning another excuse for Hercules to get drunk (not that he needed one).

“Are you coming, Pythagoras?” Jason asked.

“I,” Pythagoras stated, “am choosing to celebrate by retiring to my nice, warm bed. Don't drink or gamble away all of our earnings. I bid you both a joyous day.”

“And we you,” Hercules replied as Pythagoras stood. For a moment, Pythagoras could have _sworn_ he saw a strange glint of… _something_ in Hercules’ eyes. He narrowed his eyes a little, but smiled back at both Hercules and Jason nonetheless, excusing it as just being tired.

Upon entering his room, he looked over to his work bench, papers still strewn messily about, having not had the time to clean them up before quickly departing two days previously. _Well_, he decided, looking over towards his bed, _surely it could wait a little longer._

He flopped onto his bed and stared up at the ceiling. Outside, he heard Jason and Hercules talking joyfully and took this moment to appreciate the peace. They hadn’t had much lately. Even if life was decidedly more interesting, and he would always be glad Jason crashed (literally) in their lives- crazy adventures and all-, he didn’t mind having a moment just to be at home.

Suddenly, he heard a knock at the front door. Pythagoras figured it must be Medusa, come to see Hercules after having encountered him at the market yesterday. This was more or less confirmed by an, “About time,” from Hercules.

Then, strangely enough, he was being called. “Oh, Pythagoras,” Hercules bellowed, a little sing-songish.

Pythagoras hauled himself up from where he lay and stood in his doorway. “Yes, Hercules?”

“Get the door for us, would you? We’re busy here.” Pythagoras shared a puzzled look with Jason before beginning to walk to the door, figuring that he was already up, but didn’t stop himself from telling Hercules about how he was _trying_ to _sleep_, and if Hercules wasn’t so _lazy_ he could’ve stood up and walked two steps to the door himself, and when whoever-

Pythagoras’s words stopped dead in his throat as he swung upon the door.

There stood Icarus, who, upon seeing Pythagoras, let his concerned expression fall away and face light up, eyes as bright and smile as wide as they day he met him.

Pythagoras could do nothing but stare.

“Hello,” Icarus tried, a bit sheepishly.

It was more than enough to bring Pythagoras back into reality. He threw his arms around his long-missed friend’s neck, pulling him tightly to him. They just stood like that for a moment, Pythagoras feeling as if he would never be willing to let him go. Of course, he would obviously have to, but for now, he just… wouldn’t.

Behind him, he heard Jason whisper, “Who’s that?” gracefully refusing to interrupt.

“A friend,” Hercules whispered back.

At this, Icarus finally pulled away, though not far, his hands finding Pythagoras’s arms as Pythagoras’s own found Icarus’s face. He looked, in the simplest of terms, _awful_. His face had become sunken, no doubt from having little to no food. His right cheek contained a dark bruise, and a few scratches lay across his skin. The bags under his eyes led Pythagoras to believe he had not slept in weeks, though obviously he knew this to be impossible (it looked true, nonetheless). Pythagoras had never been so glad to see a face in his life. He was _here_. He was _here_, he was _home_, despite everything he still looked so beautiful, and oh gods, it was really true, he was-

“You’re alive,” he whispered.

Icarus gave a small laugh, so genuine despite looking so tired. “Yes,” he said. “I’m alive.” While they stood beaming at each other, Pythagoras could not help a few tears escaping from his eyes.

“And so are you,” Icarus said quietly, beginning to cry himself.

Pythagoras furrowed his brow. “Of course I am. What-”

“When I asked about you, Father told me about some of the trouble you’ve been getting yourself into.” Though he smiled, Pythagoras could tell that Daedalus had described the misadventures he’d been on as a bit more than “trouble.” Even still, after all Icarus had been through, whatever had brought him to Pythagoras’s door looking like he’d had to fight off an entire army, and _he_ was worried about _him_.

“Do not be ridiculous. What of you?” Pythagoras asked, searching his eyes, “What has happened?”

“We can talk of that later. For now, let us go inside.”

“Oh,” Pythagoras exclaimed, suddenly remembering the two sitting behind him, “Yes, of course, please.” They finally separated from each other’s arms as Pythagoras rubbed his eyes quickly and turned around.

To find both his friends staring at them. Well, he supposed, it would only make sense that they would, with what must have been a slight scene. Yet, Pythagoras found himself not caring. Five days short of a year, Icarus was _back_. There was nothing that could ruin his mood.

Hercules stood up from the table and moved to embrace Icarus. Icarus grimaced slightly as he was pulled into a bear hug, no doubt from wounds Pythagoras could not see. Still, Icarus laughed. “It’s good to see you, Hercules.”

“We’ve all missed you dearly,” Hercules replied.

When Hercules had finally let him go, Jason worked his way over and gave him a hug of his own. Slightly unexpected, but Pythagoras supposed it shouldn’t have been, what with Jason’s naturally friendly nature. Either way, it pleased him to see.

“I know we don’t know each other,” Jason began, “But you seem to be well-loved around here, and that makes you a friend of mine. Welcome back.” He smiled and stuck out his hand. “I’m Jason.” Icarus smiled back and shook.

“Icarus.”

At his name, Pythagoras saw something cross Jason’s features. Something troubling. If Pythagoras had seen it for longer, he might have named it as fear, but just as quickly as the expression had come, it was gone. Had Pythagoras not known his friend so well, he might not have noticed at all.

It wasn’t the time to worry about such things, however, and Pythagoras brushed it aside as just another one of the names Jason has a strange aversion too. He shall ask him about it later, but not now.

“We’d best head out, Jason.” Hercules said, shooting Jason a look.

“But he just-” Jason began, but Hercules raised his eyebrows even higher, indicating Jason had better just go along with it. _Thanks for the subtlety_, Pythagoras thought. “Oh. Right. Yes, we better be going.”

“We’ll catch up with you later, Icarus. You can join us at the tavern if you’re feeling up to it.”

Icarus looked over to Pythagoras, addressing his words as more of a question to him than a statement to Hercules. “Maybe we will.” He turned and grinned back towards Hercules.

They all shared another series of hugs before Hercules and Jason headed out the door, leaving Pythagoras and Icarus alone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It took all of half a second for them to fall back into each other’s arms.

“I can’t express how good it is to see you again, my friend,” Icarus breathed. Pythagoras felt his neck growing wet, and found himself crying again too.

“I didn’t know if we ever would. See each other again.”

“I wasn’t going to let that happen.” And in that moment, Pythagoras knew it was true. Standing there, enveloped in Icarus’s arms, the only place in the world he wanted to be, the months (five days to a year, his brain reminded him) of worrying seemed to feel so utterly pointless. Of course he was going to come back. He was always going to come back.

“We should sit,” Pythagoras said into Icarus’s hair, suddenly overwhelmed with the thought of how tired he must be.

“Yes,” Icarus said. Neither moved for another few seconds.

Pythagoras finally pulled back, looking into his friend’s eyes (though the word “friend” felt strange in his heart, it was the only logical word to use). Yes, they were the same bright eyes Pythagoras knew, felt he had always known, and yet now, something troubling lay behind them. He knew all too well what it looked like to carry the weight of dark times.

They wordlessly moved their way to the table in the middle of the room, not leaving space between them on the same side of the bench.

Feeling the weight of the situation come crashing back, Pythagoras put his head in his hands and sighed, fighting back another bout of tears. “Where have you been, Icarus?”

Icarus reached out and took one of Pythagoras’s hands in his own, causing his blue eyes to shoot back up and take in Icarus’s earnest expression. “I am truly sorry, I did not mean to be gone so long, I-”

“Five days short of a year.” Barely more than a whisper.

A knowing laugh fell from Icarus’s mouth. “What have I told you about keeping track of these things?” Gods, what a marvelous sound. One that he had come to fear he would never hear again. “I’m sorry,” Icarus added, no more trace of the humor that had been just a second earlier.

“You have nothing to apologize for. I know you would not have been gone that long by choice. Not without sending word to Daedalus.” _And to m_e, he added silently, almost as a prayer.

“You’re right,” he responded, looking down, far past their clasped hands, far past the floor beneath their feet. “It was not by choice.”

“Icarus, _please_. What happened?”

He didn’t look up as he began his story. “It was fine at first. Like any other trip. I got the city fast- faster than I usually get places, actually.” He gave a small, sad laugh at that. “Funny how that works out.” Pythagoras began to rub his thumb over the back of Icarus’s hand. He looked up for only a moment before continuing.

“I reached Agesilaus’s house to discover that he was not there. I should have known something was wrong. We had sent word that I would be coming. I went next door to ask his neighbor of his whereabouts, but she told me to never mention that name to her again and slammed the door in my face. I tried the neighbor to the other side but she gave me a very similar response. I was beginning to think that Agesilaus was a very bad neighbor.” A genuine smile at his own joke.

“You’re ridiculous,” Pythagoras said, smiling himself.

“I know. Anyway, I spent the day searching the town- the market, the library, anywhere I could think him to be. He was nowhere. I would’ve spent the night at an inn, but I was beginning to worry, fearing something might have happened to him. He was old and he lived alone, so I thought maybe… well, I broke into his house. But it- something was wrong. Everything was covered in dust. Nobody had lived there for some time. But it wasn’t empty: research papers still about, cups and plates, clothes. It looked as if he just up and left one day. It was too strange, but there was nothing more I could do when the city was asleep, so I slept myself.

“The next day, I planned to visit one of the outer villages where I knew him to have family. I thought that perhaps he decided it was time to be with them in what years he may have left. I stopped at the market to purchase some more supplies when I noticed people staring. Whispering. I thought I had been becoming a little paranoid and tried to ignore it, but then I watched a merchant, who had been talking with a soldier, point at me.

“And then they arrested me.”

“What? Why? How could-”

“I didn’t know. I hadn’t done anything. Well, other than breaking into Agesilaus’s house, but I made sure nobody saw me. Or at least I thought I did. But it wasn’t that. They brought me in front of the king.

“The guards shoved me to my knees. The king, he rose and stood over me. He said- I remember it so well,” Icarus shook his head and closed his eyes. “He said, ‘Icarus, son of Daedalus, you and your father have conspired to kill me, and now you must pay for your actions.’”

“No.”

“That is what I was saying as the guards dragged me out. I remember begging, pleading that he was mistaken, that I didn’t know what he was talking about, that it was not us. It didn’t matter, of course. They still threw me in a cell.

“I was not in there longer than a day before a man came in. Head of the royal guard. I thought for certain he was there to tell me my execution date, but instead he told me that I might live. He told me that Agesilaus had already confessed everything. That my father had called in a favor of him, and that I had threatened him when he refused. He was to kill the king for some old, unsettled anger of my father’s part. All I had to do, he told me, was two things. One: I had to tell him how the device worked. And two: I had to help them kill my father.

“I argued, though I knew it to be pointless. Clearly, they had already decided I was guilty. Eventually he told me that he needed an answer. I told him I would not and could not help them. So he left.

“When he came back, it was with two guards. They said nothing. No questions, no demands. nothing. They just dragged me to my feet and chained me to the wall. My arms were strung above my head and feet bound together. I couldn’t move.

“And then they began to beat me.”

“Icarus…” Pythagoras searched his downturned face, the other man still unable to meet his eyes. The thought of any harm coming to him, of the pain that he had endured- it was unbearable.

After a moment, Icarus continued, pushing to tell the whole story, it seemed, before he could no longer bear to. “They came back day after day, demanding I tell them how some device worked, whatever Agesilaus had used to try to kill the king. I still don’t even know if it was actually even my father’s creation. Some days they would demand I tell them how to get in and out of Atlantis unnoticed. If I told them how to reach my father without incurring the wrath of Minos, they promised my freedom.

“I never told them a single thing.

“In exchange, they continued to beat me.” Pythagoras could do nothing but watch as Icarus slowly broke down. “As time went on, it only grew worse. The torture-” he cried, voice breaking, “Pythagoras, you have no idea what they did to me. How they…” The words turned to sobs.

Pythagoras pulled him to his chest and wrapped his arms tightly around him. Icarus’s hands gripped his shirt, as if he let go, he would find himself alone in that cell again. “I had not so much as a window,” he choked out. “I was not even allowed the sun. I felt I was there for eternities.”

“Shh,” Pythagoras finally whispered. “Do not relive it any longer. You have been through enough.” He had about one thousand questions, but they could wait. They had enough time. For the moment, he did what he could to comfort his friend- rubbing his back and petting his hair, pointlessly hoping that if he held him close enough, he could soak up some of the pain and take it as his own- yet, as the sobs wracked his body, Pythagoras knew it would never be enough. He could not change the past, no matter how desperately his wished to; all he could do was be here now.

So there they remained for some time, until finally Icarus’s cries had quieted and both had eyes turned red. When Pythagoras finally spoke, it was quietly, seeming to die in the air in front of them, not even coming close to reaching the walls. “It’s a bright day out. We should go enjoy it.”

Icarus lifted his head from where it rested on Pythagoras’s shoulder. A genuine smile spread across his face. “Yes,” he agreed, “we should enjoy the sun.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The market was bustling. People meadered about, arms full of various items. Loud conversations rang through the air, laughter drifting from stall to stall. Children ran between the legs of unsuspecting patrons, playing games and getting into trouble. Life carried on in the streets of the city.

The two men walked side by side, arms brushing against each other with each step. Pythagoras did his best to subtly steal glances at Icarus. Being back outside, a weight seemed to be lifted off him, and Pythagoras began to see hints of his old self. The one who was always smiling, just because he could. The one who had a heart filled with such joy and excitement just for existing. Yes, he could see the light coming back into his eyes and he took in the day.

“I told Father I would pick up a few things for dinner,” Icarus said, approaching a fruit stall. He picked up a few plums and handed the merchant some coins. “You should join us.”

“I would love nothing more,” Pythagoras said, exchanging a smile.

They carried on, hands becoming full with all kinds of foods and fruits. It seemed as if they were having a feast. _Well_, Pythagoras thought, _they have much to celebrate_. Eventually, they ended up at the baker, a man that, thanks to Hercules, Pythagoras knew well.

“Pythagoras! Icarus!” he called to them.

“Hello, my old friend,” Pythagoras said warmly.

“So, who will be buying a pie for Hercules today, huh?”

“Huh?” Pythagoras turned to Icarus, who was looking a little sheepish. “Since when have you bought pies for Hercules?”

“Since yesterday?” he replied, sounding more like a question.

“That was you?” Pythagoras found himself laughing. “Of course. I should have known when it was you at the door and not Medusa.” He thought for a moment. “But then, that means he knew you had returned and didn’t tell me. I’m going to kill him.”

“No, don’t,” Icarus said, as he grabbed Pythagoras’s arm with his free hand. “I asked him not to.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to see you for myself.” There was that grin again. Even though he was a little upset that no one thought he should know Icarus was back immediately, he couldn’t be mad at either of them. Possibly a little annoyed with Hercules, as he thought he should have told him anyway, but definitely not Icarus.

“Is anyone going to buy a pie?” the baker said, now sounding a bit annoyed himself that they were blocking his stand without purchasing anything.

“Ah, yes,” Icarus said, pulling out some coins, “We’ll take one.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Icarus kicked the door of the workshop a few times, arms too full to even attempt to knock. Pythagoras could hear Daedalus shuffling around the room before approaching the door, which he proceeded to fling open.

“Ah, my boy,” said Daedalus, smiling brightly. They may bicker about many things, but no one could say Icarus was not his father’s son, not when they shared an expression such as that. Pythagoras realized he had not seen such genuine joy on the old man’s face in many months. “Don’t stand there on the street all evening, then. Come put those things in the kitchen.”

The boys slipped by him and down the stairs. “And glad to have you join us, Pythagoras,” Daedalus called after them.

“Wouldn’t miss it!” he called back.

As Pythagoras passed through the workshop, he found himself feeling a little guilty. He had not been there in a few weeks. Things looked mostly the same, yes- contraptions hung from the ceiling, papers poured off of tables and onto the floor, bits and pieces of the inventor’s mind strewn about- but not everything. There were designs he didn’t recognize. Furniture shifted about here and there. Small changes, but changes nonetheless. Changes he had not been there for. He followed Icarus into the kitchen.

To be fair, he _had_ been busy lately, Pythagoras thought as he set down the various foods he was carrying. Killing the Minotaur, rescuing Medusa from a cult, sneaking the princess out of the city to meet her traitor brother, running for their lives constantly, keeping two other idiots alive in between the wild days in which they kept him alive- it hadn’t left him with as much time to help in the workshop. Yet he would be lying to himself if he said that was the only reason he had not been by in so long.

“Let’s begin,” Icarus said, opening up the curtains to allow in the last light of the fading sun. Pythagoras grabbed a knife and got to work. They worked in a comfortable silence, neither needing to say anything to the other, neither having anything to say to the other. Nothing that couldn’t be said later. For now, they simply enjoyed having the other’s company and sharing smiles whenever their eyes met.

He had been busy lately, but on the days he wasn’t, he didn’t stop by as much because the house had simply felt too empty without the warmth of Icarus’s soul there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Did you really leap a bull?” Icarus asked, eyes wide.

“He did,” Daedalus said around a mouthful of food. “I saw it with my own eyes. I thought for certain he was going to meet his demise.”

“_Thank you_,” Pythagoras replied sarcastically, “for your faith in me, Daedalus.”

“You may be less of a fool than most in this city,” (a pretty strong compliment from the ever-impatient genius), “but looking at you, I’d believe your strength begins and ends in your mind. If I were a betting man, I know what I would have wagered.”  
Pythagoras shot an exasperated look towards Icarus, who was snickering quietly. “He never changes,” he laughed.

“No, I suppose he doesn’t,” Pythagoras agreed.

“What?” Daedalus asked, deadpan. “I speak the truth. And I only bring it up because I had had an idea. If you need so much force to lift yourself up and over the bull, and you and the bull are charging towards each other at a certain speed each…” He carried on, describing scenarios and devices that Pythagoras heard little of. Any other time, he would’ve listened intently to whatever knowledge the old man had thought up, but for now, he could not help but take the time to appreciate the moment. It had been too long since they simply sat and ate like a family. He was reminded of his early days in Atlantis, when times were simpler and meals like this were commonplace. He turned for a moment to look at Icarus, who he found was already looking towards him.

“Fools, the both of you,” Daedalus was saying, the sudden shift in conversation bringing Pythagoras’s mind back to the words. “I trust neither of you heard a second of what was being said.” Though the words themselves may have argued otherwise, Pythagoras knew the tone to be nothing other than pleased. “I should go begin work on it. You two are younger than I; you can handle this mess.” With that, Daedalus rose from the table and made his way back towards his workshop, handing resting for a moment on Icarus’s head as he passed by.

Once through the doorway, Icarus began gathering plates, Pythagoras following his lead. “You know,” he began, “I did not believe I could ever miss his chastising, but it is like music to my ears.”

“Give it a week or two,” Pythagoras said, shaking his head as the sounds from the workshop grew louder.

“Come,” Icarus said, grabbing his hand. “Let us move some place quieter.” He led Pythagoras up the steps and pushed up the door at the top of them.

Pythagoras had been in his room countless times, but something was different. As Icarus lit a candle (time had quickly escaped, leaving behind the darkness of the night in its tracks), he realized why. All the papers that had once covered the walls in designs and ideas- maybe not as brilliant as his father’s, but impressive nonetheless- were nowhere to be found. Each wall was as bare as the one next to it.

“Where has everything gone?” he asked quietly. “All your work?”

“I… I can’t bear to look at it for the moment. It’s all stored in the chest in the corner. I need someplace I can rest, not have all these half-completed concepts staring down at me every second.” He sat down on his bed, avoiding the worried gaze of Pythagoras, but only making it worse by grimacing as he leaned back against the wall and held his side.

“How bad is it?”

“It’s nothing,” Icarus answered, a little too quickly. “I’m fine.”

“It’s not _nothing_. You’re clearly in pain.” He sat down on the bed next to his friend and hesitated a moment. “Can I see?”

“The wound itself will heal.” But there was something more, Pythagoras could sense the rest of the unsaid statement. He feared he knew what it was.

“At least let me make you something for the pain.”

Icarus sighed, and finally conceded. “There’s some medicine in the cabinet.”

Pythagoras made his way over and opened the door. There were a few herbs lying on the shelves, along with two already made poultices. He examined them both, before choosing the more useful of the two and grinding a few extra herbs into it, ones that would hopefully do the job.

“You’re going to need to remove your shirt,” Pythagoras said, turning back towards the bed. Icarus moved slowly, movements laced with a certain amount of distress. Pain that he must have been hiding all day. As his shirt came above his head, Pythagoras had to stop a gasp from escaping his lips.

Along Icarus’s ribs lay a long gash, bright red. Whatever had caused it was certainly no accident. Yet, this was almost the least of Pythagoras’s concerns, because littered across the rest of his chest and stomach were a myriad of scars- many clearly from knife cuts or burns, others from things Pythagoras could only imagine (though those were the last images he wanted his mind to create). He looked up to meet Icarus’s eyes, only to find them staring out the window.

Not wanting to push so painful a subject, he turned his attention back towards the wound. “This might sting a little,” he warned as he began to apply some of the green paste. Icarus winced at the contact. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.” Icarus tried to sound reassuring. “Barely felt it.”

“You don’t have to do that, you know.”

Icarus turned to look at him. “Do what?”

“Pretend like everything’s fine.” He looked up from his work for a moment, intending to say more, but faced with the reality that he didn’t know what more he could say.

“There. Finished.” Pythagoras made his way back over to the cabinet, putting away the poultice and the herbs he left lying about. When he turned back around, Icarus had already pulled his shirt back on and sat staring at him.

“What is it?” he asked. The small light from the candle danced across the other man’s features, revealing next to nothing of thoughts. Pythagoras had never known him to not just speak his mind when he had something to say. But, he supposed, a lot has changed.

“You’re always looking after people. Your mother and brother, long before you arrived in Atlantis. Hercules, in every day after. Now Jason, it seems.” He glanced out the window, then back towards Pythagoras, who wondered for a moment just how exactly the world beyond that hole in the wall looked to him. “Me.”

Pythagoras thought for a moment, then made his way over to the window. “I do not believe we are as small as we used to be,” he said, looking back towards Icarus, a smile spreading across his face, “but I think we can still fit.”

Icarus grinned in return, a genuine happiness, and lifted himself from the bed with a new energy. As he approached, Pythagoras pulled himself onto the windowsill and grabbed the edge of the roof. He certainly had less room to work with than years ago, but managed to hoist himself up successfully. Icarus followed suit, propping himself onto the ledge, and Pythagoras reached a hand down. Icarus took it, allowing himself the assistance of being pulled to the roof. In the first few trips up here, the roles had been reversed.

They lay down on their backs, Pythagoras’s left shoulder to Icarus’s right, and looked up to the stars hovering just out of reach (yet, in reality, at such very, _very_ great a distance) above the city, an old routine nestled deep in their bones from nights long gone.

“I look after you, as I do the others,” he began to answer the unasked question quietly, closing the gap between their hands to entwine their fingers, “because that is just what one does for those they care about.”

“When I finally escaped that dungeon and made it out to the woods, it was the middle of the night.” Icarus’s voice was filled with the pain of his tragedy once more, and Pythagoras could not help but watch him as he spoke. “I knew I had to keep moving, but for a time, I simply could not. All I could do was stare at the sky I had not seen for four months and wonder if the stars I saw were the same ones as the ones everyone back home could see.”

Pythagoras gave his hand a squeeze, watching the tears roll silently down his face. “They are,” he said, not just because it was the truth (though that made it simple), but because it was what Icarus needed to hear, and he would do whatever little he could to be what Icarus needed right then.

Icarus nodded. Pythagoras turned his eyes back up.

And there they lay, admiring what beauty sat above. There was much pain and struggle in both their hearts, Pythagoras knew, but for now, they could take a much needed breath, let it fall away, and just simply exist side by side under the stars.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Pythagoras woke, dawn was only just beginning to break, with a deep red on the horizon and the sun not yet toppling over the buildings of Atlantis. The city still slept, and the world still whispered as not to wake it.

In his arms, Icarus still slept, too. During the night, they had tangled their limbs, as even asleep, they could not be apart (_Please_, Pythagoras asked of whatever deity might be listening to a voice that, most times, did not bother to try to speak to them, _let us not part again_). Icarus’s head rested against his chest, with slow, calm breaths to match the look of peace on his face.

Suddenly, Hercule’s voice echoed in the back of his mind from a few days prior.

_“What’s it like to wake up next to your love in the morning?”_

_Love_. It was strange. He supposed his heart had known for a while now (maybe even the whole time), but his head had not wanted to entertain that idea. He had been too content with the way things were between them, too scared to ruin the friendship they had to consider too deeply why this friendship was like none other he’d had before. And yet, lying there, together again, the answer should have always been obvious.

He loved Icarus.

If this is what it is like, then he could certainly get used to it.

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't mean for this to be so long and yet here we are, 8000 words later and SAD
> 
> (the end is a little rushed though, srry, i wanted this chapter done tonight and it's late. which is also why i'll go back and edit this one of these days but that day certainly won't be today)


End file.
